I do despise reminiscing like this, it is against my nature. Looking forward is always so much more beneficial. Yet as the years pass and your revenge and your death come closer, you have grown. But still-
You're like a bird kept in an open cage.
You could get out, you could flap your little wings and leave, but the more you think about it the less you know what to do.
So what do you do?
You cling to your revenge, you cling to me.
Your sweetly soft feathers litter the bottom of the cage.
I'll love you until the last breath leaves your fragile frame, my darling. How could I not? Your sweet scent of the white roses you adore so much (though they represent purity, you have so little), and the sweets you greedily devour, licking your sugar-coated lips of lies, your searching, piercing blue eye and the one that I marked, the one that claims you as mine. The poise with which you hold yourself, such strength in such a boy as you is something to admire, and all the grace that accompanies it.
So, my talking bird, I believe that you are not a robin as one suggested, no. Robins simply… do not suit you, Bocchan.
You are a scarlet tanager.
You with your black wings and tail, the rest of you is stained scarlet with blood.
Don't deny how much blood you have on you, Bocchan, it looks wonderful on your feathers.
Whisper into the night and call my name in your dreams.
I will wait, my Lord.
A/N: Hullo, thar. It's Pickles again with some oneshots. I keep finding myself writing all these little drabbles and not being able to stop. So, I decided that they needed a place. I keep finding these and I don't know when I wrote them. Probably after a test at school or something. These are probably going to include some prompts that friends have given me, and things like that, as writing exercises. Anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Reviews are very, very much appreciated and loved, particularly to help me know if what I'm writing is what I'm aiming for. So, thank you!